Some of the things I have achieved as an inventor, creator, product manager, CEO, CTO, writer and artist include: Playing a role in establishing and evangelizing standards and practices such asPDF, DVD, Podcasting, ARG and digital video. I am an inventor . I have designed apps for iPhone, iPad and other mobile platforms   . I am a published author of screenplays, white papers, technology, sci-fi, marketing and gaming books.
My pioneering work in Transmedia is chronicled in the University level textbook: Legend-Tripping Online: Supernatural Folklore and the Search for Ong’s Hat – University Press of Mississippi (May 17, 2011) Also see here.
I have also been the executive producer and originator of the Santa Barbara International Film Festival Podcast the first film festival to podcast from the event and the executive producer/director of the Los Angles Film Festival podcast .
I was the podcast editor at TheNervousBreakdown.com.
I have staged and orchestrated very successful, large scale, mass media Alternate Reality Game/Transmedia style projects since the mid-80s, utilizing print, phone, fax, email, Internet, advertising, video, film, audio, CD ROM, DVD, and on-demand media. My work has been featured on CBS Marketwatch, CNN, CNET TV, Kiplinger’s, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, NHK, MTV, PBS, LA Times, Clear Channel Radio, BBC, MSNBC, Boing-Boing, and many other weekly newspapers, trade magazines, local and regional radio, television and newspapers.
Recently, my work was profiled in Games(TM) magazine, where it was said of my work, Ong’s Hat:
“Ong’s Hat was more of an experiment in transmedia storytelling than what we would now consider to be an ARG but its DNA – the concept of telling a story across various platforms and new media- is evident in every alternate reality game that came after.”
The Incunabula Papers CDROM was recently included in the BNF (Bibliothèque nationale de France) digital art collection.
List of books as archived by Goodreads (doesn’t include audio/video works)
List of books and A/V as archived by Amazon (does not include some collaboration and out of print works)
Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried:
(I’m a blackstar, I’m a blackstar)
The poets lay in the gutter,
their bodies in the morass.
The whole nation’s spittle
floating on their soup.
They have grown between mucous membranes
into the root area of men.
Their wings did not take them to heaven–
they have dipped their feathers in blood,
did not waste a single drop while writing–
but the wind carried their songs
that unsettled the faith…
The poets still raise their hands. Demonstrate changes? Embitterments, impotences and negations don’t reveal themselves through gesture. — About EMBARRASSMENTS! With a final truth in discharge, having broken with all those unable to wrap art in a SMELL.
The “externals” have practiced art-historical additions, have spoken persistently of final strokes, have fallen in ecstasy too rapidly, have practiced mystification with a collector’s passion, have advanced through artistic performances. They stretched out on white bedsheets, did not rumple the beds of the survivors, they mistrusted the remains of the last homework, did not make apparent sticky threads and have jeered at the infertile agitations. The rest of the story are examples. Blasphemy is with us, blastogenesis (blossoming of excrescences) is with i, paleness and blue are ours. Those escaped confinement to bed, their methods of simplification carried them ever higher on the crests of waves, they found confirmation in the rock carvings in the Sahara, in the linear constructions of Egyptian reliefs or in the lycopod woods. No salute shall greet their friendliness here!
Geniuses have stretched to the sky– buried themselves in the liquid earth. The ice has broken underneath the misty labyrinth. Those are petrified who believe in fertility, who believe in it–who deny their fathers and venerate them. Fire furrows the ice, crystal flowers, nets of needles, starry sky broken up.
Frozen nudes with skin crusts–spilled trail of blood. Bloated and deposited friendly ones. Perspective faces drawn by the moon on the rivers, faces on which the sewage waters drip. The toad that lives and licks the saliva of the singers. Crystal mountains glowing red. Homer, the water of your eyes on the mountain lake. Caught in the flourishes of the manuals who invented the method.
Conciliatory meditation– beginning with the contemplation of the smallest toes. One the horizon, in the distant fog, one always see faces. Under the blanket, something is shivering and trembling, behind the curtain, someone is laughing. You see in my eyes nature’s altar, the carnal sacrifice, remains of food in the cesspool-pan, emanations from the bedsheets, blossoms on stumps and on roots, oriental light on the pearly teeth of the belles, cartilage, negative forms, shadow stains and wax drops. Marching up to the epileptics, orchestrations of the bloated, warted, gruel-like, and jellyfish creatures, limbs and interlaced erectile tissue.
Pandemonic Manifesto I, 2d Version (1961)